Aura of Life
by doomcherries
Summary: Sara reflects on the past 35 years of her life. Does contain minor spoilers for the season eight premiere based on recently aired promos.


Disclaimer: I own nothing except my own ideas.

Minor spoilers for the upcoming Season Eight premiere based on promos that have been recently aired.

And a HUGE thanks to **mingsmommy** for the beta

* * *

"Mommy?" That was the first word out of her mouth when she came downstairs to find her father stabbed to death in the kitchen. 

Later, she thought this was ridiculous. Children typically called their parents 'mommy' or 'daddy' when they felt a deep connection with them. She wasn't sure if she ever felt that way. She supposed at one point she might have. Don't all children feel that way at least once?

But she didn't exactly have a normal childhood. Abusive fathers, submissive mothers—well, mostly anyway—and drunken fights and screaming matches at two in the morning weren't found in any definition of "normal childhood".

After being taken away from the only home she'd ever known, she would later admit to her social worker that she didn't feel anything that day. She didn't feel sad when she found her father dead and she wasn't upset she was taken away from her mother.

Therapists would tell her she was still in shock from the incident and in time would come to feel sorrow and pain. Twenty-three years later, she still felt the same. That household was a time bomb waiting to explode, and finally it did.

Can't delay the inevitable.

* * *

With Grissom, everything felt new and exciting. Like a kid in a candy store for the first time. After their first date, she couldn't wipe the stupid grin off her face for days. She was surprised people didn't ask questions.

It was a nervous excitement.

They fumbled around each other, slowly testing the waters of their relationship. Tentative. Neither of them willing to indulge too much too fast.

Slow. Slow was good.

To finally be able to touch him after so many years of admiring him from afar was exhilarating. She loved the feel of the smooth skin covering the broad muscles of his back. She loved the rough, almost callous feel of his hands on her skin, touching her wherever he pleased. And his kisses, well, they were something out of this world.

With him she felt special, she felt important.

She felt wanted. More than she'd even been wanted before. It was as if his entire being craved her, sought her. And she returned the feeling with equal fervor.

For the first time in her life, she felt truly loved.

It felt amazing.

* * *

Gritting her teeth, she tried to will herself not to feel. Every nerve in her body felt over sensitized, over stimulated. She could feel every press of the cool metal into her limbs, the burning and throbbing of her cuts, the freezing cold of the rain.

The oppressive weight of each second nearly consumed her.

When a person goes missing, each second that ticks by decreases that person's chance of survival. She knew that.

She knew that because she'd dealt with missing people and their frantic and terrified families all the time. She processed their crime scenes with amazing speed.

Speed matters.

She knew that because pinned under a wrecked car, time was her enemy. Each second that ticked by was one less second to live.

One less second with those she loved.

She loved Gil. She hoped he knew.

She said it just to make herself feel better.

_I love you, Gil. _It came out broken and raspy.

As the first strong wave of water hit her, she gasped for air. She felt the burning in her lungs to breathe, too. When the second one came just as quick, she realized time had run out.

She pictured her tombstone in that moment: Here lies Sara Sidle. Kidnapped, pinned under a car and drowned to death.

She had laughed.

The laughter hurt.

But it had felt good.

* * *

Bright light nearly blinded her. For a brief moment, she wondered if she was dead.

Blinking, she realized she was staring into a dimmed over bed light. Letting her eyes adjust to the light, she glanced around the room.

Monitors.

IV pumps.

Curtains drawn tight.

Grissom slumped over, asleep, in one of those uncomfortable plastic-covered hospital chairs.

Tears welled in her eyes and a small cry erupted from her dry, sore throat.

Instantly, the sleepy, depleted looking Grissom jumped from his chair and ran to her side. She could feel him gently grab her hand, caress her skin and tell her repeatedly in a broken voice, "_Everything will be alright. Everything's okay. Oh God, Sara. I love you. I love you. It's okay."_

She squeezed his hand before removing it from his grasp and weakly forming the sign for 'I love you' with her bruised and battered fingers. Letting out a cry of his own, he rested his head next to her and lets his tears fall.

A surge of emotions washed over her. Frustration, anger, sadness, fear, exhaustion, comfort.

Happiness.

It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe, it scared her to think of how much physical therapy she would require.

But right then, she was content with the fact she was alive.

Alive.

She was given a second chance by whatever supreme deity that reigned the heavens.

She wasn't going to waste her second opportunity at life.

* * *

Three months after her return from the hospital, she had physically healed. Her scrapes, cuts and bruises were now a faded memory on her skin, only a few lingering to leave nearly invisible scars. Her broken bones were fully healed and she had regained almost full use of her left arm.

But physical injuries always faded and healed quicker than emotional ones.

The emotional injuries remained.

The day she came home from the hospital, neither she nor Grissom said much. She knew he was hiding within his thoughts, silently blaming himself for not keeping her safe. And she couldn't think of anything to say.

She wanted to tell him that it wasn't his fault, he couldn't have predicted this, but she didn't. She didn't have it in her to argue with him now.

For weeks, there was uneasiness between them. His hawk-eyed gaze followed her almost everywhere and grew incredibly nervous anytime she left the house. She understood his fear, to a degree. Part of her didn't want to leave the house either.

But she couldn't live the rest of her life in fear. And neither should he.

Now, four months later, things were slowly returning to normal. Or as normal as their relationship could be. It never really was typical.

Reading together became a biweekly event. Her feet would rest in his lap and eventually she would notice his fingers slowly running along side the side of her foot. Peering over her book, she caught his eye and smiled. He returned the favor.

Bruno enjoyed his daily walk with Grissom. Sara liked it better because it gave her a reason to reach out and grab his hand, twining their fingers. Not that she needed a reason, but she enjoyed watching his face light up and the small tug at the corner of his lips when she did so.

When they made love for the first time after the incident, everything felt new. They had a deeper, more passionate connection and his every touch ignited her nerves and heart in a way she didn't know was possible.

And now, the only thing she could feel was the delicious weight of him on her and in her, and the cool press of the gold metal band on her ring finger.


End file.
